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Just a bit of an author's note here. :) This is a little stream-of-consciousness thingy I cooked up just today whilst floating in my floaty chair in my pool. It sort of resolves what happened to poor old Blitzwing after Galvy booted him out of the Decepticons at the end of the five-part episode "Five Faces of Darkness." Yes, I do know that Blitz made an appearance in the backgrounds of a couple of subsequent episodes, but given that this is the error-ridden third season that we're talking about here, I feel eminently comfortable chalking those few fleeting glimpses of ol' Blitzy-poo up to animation errors. You'll see why in a moment. ;)

Now, grab a hankie, hold your nose, and dive on in… ;)

Peace, Nightwind

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t can take a very long time to die. Don't let anyone tell you differently. Oh, I suppose that I could have chosen a different method of bringing about my own death. A faster, cleaner method, perhaps. I could have fired my laser at point-blank range directly at my exposed spark, I suppose. That certainly would have been quick. Painless, even, perhaps. Though not necessarily clean, no… Probably rather messy, indeed. Even more messy than the mess I was making now…

But killing myself that way would have been too quick, I think. Yes, much too quick. Too easy, as well. My life has been many things over the years, you see, but easy was never one of them. So why should my death be any different, yes? Besides which, if I had done it that way, it would have left me no time to record these, my final and perhaps profound thoughts as I dwindle away to nothingness here on this cold, deserted, barren, depressing little planetoid that has become my very humble abode. It would have left me no time to tell you what I've been up to – as little as I've been up to, mind you – since my summary dismissal from the ranks of the Decepticons. Most of all, it would have left me no time…to change my mind.

I don't think I will, though. Not this time. Not like I did the last couple of times. No, this time I think I shall just sit here on my ball of rock and watch the energon flow from my body in a slow, mesmerizing stream, watch it sink into the colorless dust around me. And, while doing so, I'll compose this, the final chapter of The Memoirs of the Great and Glorious Blitzwing, Decepticon Hero. Well, such as those memoirs are, anyway. Why I've felt compelled to do this, to document my life, I don't know. I mean, who's going to care? Who's ever going to hear this rambling, dreary thing? I mean, I can count on one finger the number of friends I have in the universe…and I'm not entirely sure that even he cares about me anymore. Nevertheless, here I am, babbling away for posterity's sake, should anyone ever find this journal and therefore also find whatever's left of me by that time.

Maybe it's delirium that's making me want to do this…this documentation. I am starting to feel a little light-headed now, after all, just right this second. Maybe I only think that I'm light-headed, though. The mind can play terrible tricks on the body, you know. And really, it's a little too soon for light-headedness, I think. I only just disconnected that energon conduit a minute or so ago, after all. There isn't even a respectable puddle of energon around me yet. Yes, slow and steady is the way to go, I think, even when dying. There's still plenty of time…Well, in a relative sense, at any rate.

Story of my life, lately… There's an endless void of time just stretching out forever in front of me. Just eon upon eon of nothingness for good old Blitzwing. Nothing to look forward to. Nothing to do, period.

That's the one thing in the universe that I can't stand, you know. Last time I got bored to tears, you see, I infected Astrotrain with this insane idea to overthrow Megatron. Why? Well, I was bored! I do crazy things like that when I'm bored, and Astrotrain was always willing to go along for the ride, the idiot. Yes, a good general rule of thumb is to keep Blitzwing very busy. Not that it matters now, of course, so don't you worry about jotting down that nugget of profound wisdom anywhere. Besides which, if you're really morbidly interested, Astrotrain has an exhaustive list of things one should do and not do in order to keep me in line. Ask him; he'll be happy to tell you all that you could possibly want to know.

Heh. Pity that Megatron never asked Astrotrain about that list, isn't it…?

Ah, Astrotrain…My friend, my partner-in-crime, my occasional confidant…and, also occasionally, my greatest nemesis. We had some good times, you and I…and some bad times…didn't we? More good than bad, I think, though, looking back on it all now. And now look at us. There you are…somewhere…busily kissing Galvatron's posterior, if I know you. And I do know you, of course. You were always so good at that with Megatron, after all. And here I am…

Here I am, indeed…. On my little rock, bleeding to death all by my lonesome… Pathetic, it is, I know. But this is the level to which I have been reduced, you see. This, dear listener, is all that I have left, as depressing as that may seem to you. Believe me, it's more than a little depressing to me…but then, I won't have to deal with it much longer, will I? Because, of course, the energon puddle is steadily growing…

You know…Energon's actually kind of…pretty. You ever taken the time to notice that? It's iridescent, see? It reflects all sorts of colors when the light hits it in just the right way, even the feeble light that bathes my dismal little home here. I've got a little river of energon running down my chest right now and if I move just a little bit this way, it looks pink. But then if I twist around and scoot just a bit that way…Well, now it suddenly, magically, looks blue. As blue as Earth's sky on a clear, crisp spring day.

Ah, Earth. Back in the good old days before all that weirdness happened with Unicron and everyone died…sort of… That was a fun time, wasn't it? Riding roughshod all over the humans and their planet and the Autobots who sought to protect both… I think, out of my whole life, I was happiest on Earth. No, really! Seriously! I was! Stop laughing! Yes, it was a disgusting and messy place, but there was a sort of…freedom there, too. And there was the security of having the entire Decepticon operation – a more or less unified whole, at the time – there to back you up on any nefarious endeavors that might strike your fancy. And Megatron…Well, he was certainly no peach, no, but if you happened to catch him on a really good day, he'd at least listen to reason. Sometimes, anyway. Unlike the Purple Screaming Mimi, of course…

Why did we leave Earth, again? I can't remember… The energon's still flowing, flowing, flowing after all…

Does the memory go first, when you're dying this way? Or do the senses go first? I can't remember that, either… Ah well, in either case, I suppose that I should get to what I really want to say here, just in case "The End Is Near," you know… Or, I should say, just in case the end's nearer than I think it is because I know that, in general, it's very near, indeed…

Why did I do it? I can almost hear Astrotrain demanding to know how I get into these messes. And that's what you really want to know, isn't it, 'Train? Or whoever might stumble across this horribly-composed memoir and might think to actually listen to it…though I think if anyone listens to it, it'll be 'Train. Anyway, why I betrayed the Decepticons is what you all want to know, isn't it?

Well, in my mind, I didn't betray anyone, you see. You weren't there, you know. No one was there but me to hear our new "allies," those Quintesson things, plotting to destroy us. And the Autobots. And…well, everyone. And it's true! They were plotting! I feel sick, even now, just remembering it all, remembering standing there helplessly, listening to them casually discussing the end of my species as I knew it…though maybe I only feel sick now because I'm dying and all; I don't know. But even at the time, when I certainly wasn't dying, I had felt sick with horror. And I almost panicked, too, almost revealed to the Quintessons my presence, but I caught myself just in time so that I could slink away unseen. And as I did so, for the longest time I wondered what to do about what I had heard, before finally deciding to actually be a good little soldier for once in my life and report what I had overheard to my commander…

Well, fat lot of good that did for me, huh? All I got for my efforts, after all, was some scorn and a punch from Galvatron, who simply didn't want to hear a word of what I was trying to tell him. And he can't be reasoned with. Not even on a really good day.

So then what was I supposed to do, huh? Because then I was falling after absorbing Mimi's punch, and I fell right into the midst of the Do-Gooders, and it occurred to me in a flash as I hastily got to my feet that maybe they would listen to me, after a fashion. And they did! They even went so far as to offer me amnesty when the whole crisis was over. HAH! Me! As if one do-gooding act on my part would make me want to fly the Autobot flag all of a sudden.

Oh, but I thought about their offer, you know… I really did! I was very tempted, though mostly for only one reason, that being that new leader of theirs. Rodimus Prime. Nice kid! I like him! I like him a lot! I think he'll go far if he can manage not to let Ultra Magnus browbeat out of him all of the spirit and the fire and the drive that I sensed in him during our brief alliance. Give that boy a chance to grow and develop a bit, and I think people'll soon be saying, "Optimus who?" Maybe you should think about switching sides, 'Train, if you're listening to this. Because if I'd had half a brain in my head at the time, I would have!

But no… No, I was under the misguided impression that Mimi would realize that I was the hero of the story. Me! Blitzwing, Heroic Decepticon! Oh, the irony is sweet, isn't it? But of course, Mimi didn't realize that at all. All Mimi saw was me, about to save his sorry hide, in a way…except that I'd been in the company of – Oh, the horror! – an Autobot. Sheesh! I mean, how tunnel-visioned can you get? Why are people still following this idiot? Why are you still following this idiot, 'Train? Do yourself a favor and get out. Now. While you still can. Because I don't think he likes us Triplechangers, my old friend. In fact, I don't think he likes anyone. Your time will come with that one, oh yes, indeed… And mark my words, it'll come sooner than you think, too…

…Oh, I'm getting fuzzy now… Can't see very well. Which is probably a good thing, actually. There's not very much to see here, after all. Lots of grey rocks and greyer dust with a black, star-sprinkled sky glowering sullenly above it all, with a red sun that looks for all the world like a blob of human blood floating the heavens. It looks an awful lot like Charr, actually, only smaller…and emptier… And, actually, it's suddenly a lot colder here than it was just a minute ago, I think. But that's probably just me. You know, bleeding to death and all, remember? Remember? Just checking…

What was it that Galvatron said to me? Ohhhh, even in the cloying fuzziness of near-death I can still remember that. I'll always hear those scathing words in my head, I think.

"You will suffer for this, Blitzwing," Galvatron had said. "You will suffer unimaginably."

And he was right! I have suffered! Suffering and Blitzwing are one and the same now. We're buddies. We're pals. We're on a first-name basis. Hell, if suffering could drink, I'd buy us a few cubes and we could toss 'em back and have a good laugh, even. HAH! Well, at least I have one friend left in the universe, even if it is just a painful abstract concept that I've managed to befriend.

What did I do after I left the Decepticons, you may ask? Or after I was tossed out of the Decepticons, I should say. Well, not much, really, though it certainly wasn't for lack of trying on my part, mind you. There just weren't that many options left open to me, you see. Galvatron made certain of that. One thing I have to give the guy credit for is that he does make good on his promises. Everywhere I went, people already knew who I was. Or at least they thought they knew who I was. Galvatron had somehow spread all sorts of horrific stories about yours truly, all of them false, of course. But the result is that I am now a true outcast. I am welcome absolutely nowhere, if the local population is greater than zero. Oh, I managed to pick up some mercenary work here and there, and the irony is that my falsely-enhanced "reputation" sometimes made it easier to land such work. But there was hardly enough of it, mind you. More people mistrusted me than trusted me, so there was usually – though not always – just enough to keep some energon in the old processor. Just enough to barely scrape by…

But now I'm tired of the scraping, you see. Especially because I know now that it's never going to end. I will never be welcomed back into the Decepticon fold, I know. And I cannot swallow my pride enough to go crawling to the Autobots to see if their offer of amnesty still stands. And I'm tired, too, of living in fear of the day when ol' Mimi decides to quit toying with me, when he'll just send someone out to bump me off in the slowest, most horrible way imaginable, just as his parting gift to me, as his ultimate lesson to me and to anyone else who might be thinking about "betraying" him.

Who, me? Bitter? Whatever gave you that idea?

So I've decided to beat him to it, you see. Maybe it's pride or maybe it's just extreme cowardice on my part, I don't know, but I've decided to die on my terms, not Mimi's. I know that he'll get around to killing me eventually, you see, once he tires of his fun little games. That's a given. But I've decided that I will die – And, in fact, am now dying – in the way that I want to die, and when I want to die. I will not give Galvatron the satisfaction of dying on his terms, no. I was accommodating and selfless and self-sacrificing once, and look how very far it got me. So now…Well, now I shall leave this universe in a glorious blaze of suicidal selfishness, thank you very much.

And it won't be long now, I don't think. Can't see much anymore. Can't really hear myself talking, even. All I hear is just a bunch of muted, mushy sound, so forgive me if I'm slurring my words or yelling at some deafening decibel level or something. And I'm rather numb now, too, which is actually rather nice. That coldness a bit earlier was so nasty, after all. And I'm just feeling really sleepy now. Excuse me while I lay down…

Ahhhh, that's better. Horizontal is good. Heh, I'm meeting death lying down. Never envisioned it happening that way, but…Well, here we are. And look, I've got that big energon puddle now that I wanted earlier. It's sticky, too, but that'll dry soon. Not that I'll be around to care one way or the other, of course…

Oh, but what's this I've just found here, squirming around in the bottom of my addled brain? A regret? Why, I do believe that it is! Oh, it's not a regret about doing what I've done to myself, no. And even if it was that… Well, it's not like I could do anything about it now. Indeed, I'm quite a ways beyond saving now, dear listener, and actually I'm quite content with that. No, my regret is simply my choice of venue for the last moments of my life. I so wish that I'd thought to return to Earth to die. As I said, I really did love the place, all things considered. All of my best, happiest memories reside there, after all, and I think I would have rather died amongst them than amongst the dismal, painful memories that lurk here in this barren place.

Getting to Earth for the occasion of my death would have been problematic, of course. Last I heard, the Autobots were firmly entrenched there, for one thing. Then again, it wasn't like I would have been planning a return trip to my home here or anything, anyway. But for another reason… Well, I'm quite certain I wouldn't have had the energy to get there, particularly if I'd met…resistance…along the way. So I suppose that, in the end, I really had no choice of venue, anyway, did I? So there's really nothing to regret now, is there? Nothing to regret about anything at all, no...

But maybe…Just maybe…I can conjure up one last memory, dredge up one last comforting image of Earth from my poor, energon-deprived brain here… Ahhhh, yes. There it is. High up in the Swiss Alps. In the springtime. Blessedly by myself. The sun – a bright, warm, yellow sun, not the muddy red-orange sunlight that "graces" my current home – is above me, smiling benignly down on me, glinting happily off slowly-melting patches of snow and ice. And the air is refreshingly cool but not cold. I remember often lying on my back in this spot here. I'd found it shortly after my arrival on Earth and I often came here to drink in the scenery or just to lie in peace on my back like I was doing now and stare up at the perfect, cloudless, crystal-blue sky… That sky… I will never forget that sky…

Oh, but look! The sky above me now isn't quite so cold and black and forbidding anymore, for some reason. No, not at all! No, now it's suddenly a nice…bright…warm…happy….welcoming…bluuuuuue…